Won't Be Missed
by inanianUmbra
Summary: A girl from District 8 volunteers for the Hunger Games with a specific purpose: to die.
1. Chapter 1

"The girl tribute from District 8 will be picked now." She reached into the bowl and picked out a name. "Flannel DuBois." A tall, thin wisp of a girl started walking towards the podium.

I didn't know her.

"I volunteer as tribute."

I'd planned those words carefully in advance. I'd been debating them since the first time my name had been eligible. I'd finally reached my decision, and now it was a final one. I was escorted up to the podium, to stand beside the ugly old hag. My heart was racing, but not because I was scared. Mostly because I'd been rehearsing those lines in my head for so long, and was worried I'd mess them up.

"What's your name, dear?" She asked me. I glanced down at her loud, frilly garment – a mermaid dress featuring ruffles about the neck that was more reminiscent of a tutu than of a collar.

"Purl Chau, ma'am."

"Why did you volunteer? You're not related to that other girl, I'm sure, and you're obviously no fighter."

She was right. Just by looking at me, you'd say 'That girl wouldn't last five minutes in the Games.' They'd be right. I was overweight, nearsighted, and more of a fashion victim than any Capitol citizen.

"I volunteered because I have no friends, no family, and mean nothing to nobody. This way, my suicide will mean something to somebody. Somebody like Flannel Dubois."

The woman seemed genuinely shocked, but also a little worried. "Well, Purl Chau… May the odds be ever in your favor."

I was escorted back, and heard the name of the boy from my district be called. "Felt Miyaki!"

It meant nothing to me. I knew the name, the face that went with it, but we'd never talked. I'd heard some of the other girls talking about him in the factory where I worked. He was a little like me, actually, no family – not anymore, at least. His mother had died last year, when her hair fell into her mechanical loom. There were dozens of accidents like that every year.

"Those are our District Eight tributes, Purl Chau and Felt Miyaki. I wish you both a very happy fifty-eighth Hunger games…"

He walked forward. I looked at him disinterestedly. He decided to try to strike up a conversation.

"Purl, right?"

"…Yeah." I replied, not looking him in the eye.

A good amount of time passed as I stared out the window.

"Not very talkative, are you?" He asked.

"Nope." I didn't even look at him, just looked at the inside of the train as we were shipped, like cattle, to our deaths. Or, as I preferred to think of it, my suicide.

I stared at my reflection in the window, and hated what I saw, as I usually did. Fat cheeks, almond-shaped, lidless eyes, the ugliest bowl haircut I'd ever seen, big brown blotches spread across my nose rather than cute, tiny little freckles. The only thing I really liked about my appearance were my lips. They were my father's lips, once upon a time, before he'd disappeared off the face of the earth. They were everything you'd want in a pair of lips, full, but not too full, moist, and with the typical bow shape to them. My hair was a ratty blue-black, my eyes were an ordinary brown.

When I thought he wasn't looking, I glanced to Felt. He was around a year my junior. He seemed to lack humor entirely, his face set in hard lines. It wasn't a handsome face, but it wasn't an ugly face, either. He was a bit short, just enough to give him a distinct disadvantage when the games started.

Felt passed me a little green stone with bands running across it.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Your token." He said simply. "I noticed you didn't have anything."

"If that's your token, I can't accept that."

"Please, take it."

"Why?"

"It's malachite." He said, as if it were obvious.

"It's what?"

"It's supposed to protect children. My mom said, if my name was ever drawn, to take it as my token."

"Then you should definitely keep it." I replied.

Felt fell silent.

The next morning, I woke up and the stone was beside my bed. He was being pretty insistent about it, and clearly wouldn't take no for an answer, so I kept it.


	2. Chapter 2

We were introduced to our mentors shortly after. Mine was an ancient woman, who'd been a victor in the second or third games, I couldn't remember which. I'd seen her walking about District 8. Her name was Darnelle, and she was nearly blind. I hardly noticed Felt's mentor at all, I just noticed that he was extremely scarred, all over his body. I remembered that round of the Games. Four particularly muscular Careers had held him down while they drew shapes into his skin with a knife. I'd been four years old, with nobody to shield my eyes. I couldn't remember his name, but his eyes remembered and told thousands of stories. They told the stories of how he'd gotten up after he'd been tortured, when everyone had considered him dead due to a conveniently placed cannon shot, and how he'd slit their throats one by one with a knife they'd left in his thigh, and they'd all bled out as he went and killed the last remaining tribute, fueled completely by adrenaline and desperation. If I'd been playing to win, I'd want him as my mentor.

Darnelle took me aside, into her private quarters, and sat me down on her bed. She brushed my hair back with her old, gnarled hands. "Now, Purl, tell me your story and I'll tell you mine."

"There's nothing to tell. I worked thirteen to fifteen hours a day stitching stockings for rich people, my home was a rat-infested basement, the landlord charged me ten times what he ought've, my mother died in childbirth and my father abandoned me as soon as I learned to walk to chase some rich girl's tail."

Darnelle didn't look at me with pity, or even with anger. She looked at me with understanding, and took my hands. I shuddered, unused to the simple human contact. "Poor child." She kissed me on the forehead. I shuddered again. "At first I wondered what would cause a lovely girl to want to enter the Games, with the express purpose of losing, but now I don't wonder. Will you let me tell you my story?"  
"Nothing you can say to me will change the simple fact that I'm going to let myself lose."

"I'm not trying to." Darnelle replied, which shocked me, actually. Normally, you'd expect someone to try to talk you down from it. Just another piss in the barrel of my life, I suppose. "I volunteered too, dear, to save someone dear to me. My closest friend was pregnant, though I was the only one she'd told. When her name came out of the bowl, I didn't even think before I volunteered. But I went in determined to win. I was so determined to win, that I won."

"How many people did you kill?" I asked, out of curiosity. I couldn't imagine this wrinkled old bag killing a mosquito.

"I didn't kill anybody." Darnelle replied. "I was quite beautiful, just so you know, and with a boy from District Four, we worked together. His name was Dash. I wounded my leg, just enough to make it look serious, and when some boy found me, injured and crying and alone, they couldn't help but come closer, either looking to help or to take advantage of the situation, Dash would come out with his harpoon and spear them."

"What happened to him?" I asked. I was almost dreading the answer.

"I don't know. After I'd lured in eight boys and Dash had killed them, we parted ways. We'd gotten to know each other too well to want to attack. The next day, he was dead."

"Nice story. How'd you win without killing anyone?"

"When everyone else had killed each other apart from myself and the girl from District One, they flooded the arena. I climbed to the top of the tallest tree, but the girl had no such tree to climb. It didn't help that there was around a dozen sharks in the water." Darnelle smiled sadly.

Such were the Gamemaker's tools.

"I named my son after Dash…" Darnelle's face grew lined and had a faraway look about it. "They pulled his name when he was only thirteen… my daughter, also thirteen, the very next year. The Gamemakers don't much like when you don't play by their rules, Purl."

That much shook me.

"And, my dear, so far you've flaunted their rules, just like I did. Nobody avoids killing. Nobody plays to lose."

I opened my mouth, then closed it.

"Since you're a rulebreaker looking to die, you'll get exactly that. And the Gamemakers will, I am sure, make your death as drawn-out and painful as possible." Darnelle reached out and brushed my hair away from my face. "So, if you still want to die in the Games, I hope you've braced yourself for whatever they have in store for you. If you change your mind, I'll be waiting for you in my room."


	3. Chapter 3

Darnelle's words had struck me, but not enough to change my mind. I was playing to lose. Painful though it be, I'd spared that other girl a lot of pain. She'd been a delicate little thing, too young and weak to provide any entertainment with her death.

I took my dinner with Felt. His mentor was nowhere to be found.

Felt asked me a simple question. "Is it really so hard for you, that you want to die that bad?"

"Yes."


	4. Chapter 4

We eventually arrived at the Capitol. It was too vividly colored for my tastes. I kind of missed District Eight, where I could wear too-long tartan skirts and linen blouses which went halfway down to my hands. The ones I'd worn as I'd been chosen as tribute had mysteriously disappeared, leaving me with dark brown short pants, way too tight for my tastes – they served to show off my massive thighs, I supposed, and a tighter, lightly frilled top, which barely covered my belly.

A couple of what I were to learn were called Avoxes dragged me to meet my stylist. Her entire body had been dyed a blinding yellow. Her hair was long, spiky and stuck out at a right angle from her forehead, and it was dyed orange. Feathers and jewels were stuck in her hair, and when she smiled at me, her teeth had been filed to points. Striking a sharp contrast with that, she was clothed in a simple, off-the-shoulder black dress which came to right past her hips. She looked kind of like a bird born from my nightmares.

"Hi! I'm Calista!" Her voice had also been altered, it was so high-pitched, it actually hurt my ears. "D'you know what they're calling you in the Capitol, Purl?"

"No, and I don't want to." I replied.

She told me anyway. "They're calling you Meat. I don't know if it's 'cause of your attitude, which is the worst one I've ever seen in a tribute, or if it's cause of that little belly of yours." She patted my stomach, and I flinched. I didn't like people who looked like human beings touching me, and having this weird, flamboyant bird poke at me was much, much worse. "But that's no big deal, I can take care of all of that." She smiled at me.

"What do you mean?"

"A little surgery, a boob job, a better haircut and… have you ever used shampoo?" She picked up a strand of my hair and sniffed at it. "Nope. Alright, first things first, strip down, you're going to get yourself a proper bath!"

I scowled at her.

"I know you're not playing to win, dear." Calista said. "But it's my job to make sure you're gorgeous while you do it. Now, strip!"


	5. Chapter 5

The Capitol had made me exactly into what they wanted to see.

They'd stripped the fat from my body, waxed my body hair, they'd augmented my chest, and they'd cut my hair into a short, spiked style. Every alteration, entirely cosmetic. Nobody wanted to see the real me. There'd been nothing Calista had been able to do for most of my hair, but she'd done her best with what was left.

I didn't recognize the person in the mirror. How could I? I was the girl who was round because when she was working, she ate. She worked so many hours so that she could eat more, she took a dozen tesserae so she could eat consistently. She never stopped eating because there was nobody to tell her to stop eating. Now I just looked like a clean slate. No hair anywhere on her body, no features that would distress the Capitol to look at. Nobody wanted to see an ugly tribute nobody'd miss. They wanted a reason to mourn somebody no one would mourn. So make her pretty.

It just furthered my resolve to die in the Games.

Calista seemed pleased with her work though. She was preening a loose strand of hair, admiring her handiwork. She then pulled out a rack of costumes. "District eight means cloth, so I owe all you hard workers everything I have!" She sang. She went down the rack, looking for something perfect for me. "Alright! Here we go." It hadn't been made for me specifically. It definitely hadn't. I doubted it'd fit over my hips until Calista managed to force me into it. I looked in the mirror, at the stranger in the strange dress. It consisted of layers upon layers of cloth, which parted at my thighs to display them to the world, and the rest of the cloth formed a long, multicolored trail behind me.. I didn't like my thighs any more than I had when they'd been hairy and mostly shapeless.

"Ravishing!" Calista yipped, leading me out to meet Felt. He was in a masculine version, instead of there being a trail behind him, he wore a heavy mantle of cloth. He was obviously struggling to stand upright, with an impressive game face on.

"…You look different." He told me.

"You look like you're going to fall over." I replied.

He laughed. "Any second now."

Despite myself, I grinned.

"Still playing to lose?" He asked me.

"Yeah."

They led us into our chariot to display us to the world. I glanced to Felt, who was having more difficulty than before, standing up with the ridiculous mantle on his shoulders. I looked away and back right in time to see him fall off the chariot. The audience went wild, laughing at him. Ridiculing him. It was horrible – he hadn't done anything, just worn what Calista had given him to wear, and it wasn't his fault that his body wasn't strong or well-balanced enough to support it. He was only fourteen, and small for his age. With just a little bit more grace, I jumped off the chariot, which continued without the District Eight tributes, and helped him up.

"Come on, Felt." I straightened him up. His face was twisted in pain.

"I think I twisted my ankle." He grunted. I slung his arm over my shoulder and we continued to meet the other tributes, where they'd gotten off their chariots. Now that we were so close, I noticed exactly how frail he was, underneath the dozens of layers of cloth, he was extremely bony, I actually felt bad for being so fleshy and standing next to him. When we got down to meet the other victors, the event started – even District 12, four chariots behind us, had far outstripped us.

"Capitol citizens, welcome the tributes of the 58th Hunger Games!" An announcer yelled. His fervor set the audience on fire – cheering, screaming, jumping.

Soon after that, some Avoxes took Felt away to heal his ankle…


	6. Chapter 6

I walked along the path. Darnell's children had been down this exact same path, her daughter had slept in this exact same room. It was a morbid thought. And Felt would sleep in the same place her son, Dash, had. And we'd die, just as Darnell's children had.

And, according to Darnell, I'd die slowly. Not that it mattered. I'd come here to die. I probably wasn't smart enough to kill myself proper, so it was either the other tributes, or the Gamemakers deciding to be rid of me.

They then took us to the Training Center, a massive building where they'd house us until sending us to our deaths. Felt came back looking better than ever, his ankle healed completely.

"They said they couldn't have someone go into the Games injured." Felt explained, although I hadn't asked. "Did you see the little girl from district 10, though? She's crippled and can hardly walk… And she's only 12."

"Poor kid." She was a goner already. "I'm going to sleep."

"We just got here – aren't you going to try and prepare for anything?"

"Nope." I went to sleep. Might as well rest up.


	7. Chapter 7

Eventually, the Gamemakers got tired of me not attending any events, so one morning, three Avoxes banded together to drag me out of my bed and force me to at least stand around in the training room.

Once I came in, I heard a loud, clear, kind voice greet me. "Purl! Glad you could join us!" I'd almost anticipated it to be Felt, but it was too feminine. "Catch!" I whirled around and caught it in my hand – some sort of exotic fruit Capitol people ate. "Try it, it's awesome."

I looked up at the generous stranger. One of the older girls, who was naturally gorgeous. Bronzed skin, dark brown hair, hazel eyes. She was tall, and her limbs were supple and graceful. It was easy to tell that the most alteration that she'd gotten from the Capitol was probably a leg wax. I blinked.

"Go ahead, you just have to peel it." She said, warmly. "I'm Anette, District Four."

"Purl, District Eight." I replied, peeling the strange orange fruit. I'd never had a fresh fruit in my life.

"Nice to meet you." She smiled. For the first time, I genuinely felt welcome. "See you later, okay?" She went to go return to her training.


	8. Chapter 8

Darnelle approached me after dinner. "Purl, dear." She put a hand on my shoulder. I shuddered .

"What?" Was she going to try and convince me life was worth living?

"You remind me of my daughter." She said simply. "She hated living, too."

"But she was the kid of a Victor." I protested.

"And she hated that, more than anything. It's lonely, living in the Victor's Village and being the only kid your age."

"Good night, Darnelle."

"Goodnight, Purl."

I went to go to bed. I passed Felt as I did, but didn't acknowledge him. He acknowledged me, though.

"Still planning on losing?"

"I'm counting on it. Stop asking."


	9. Chapter 9

The day we had to impress the Gamemakers with our skills was coming close. I'd sat in and watched every person go through their routines. You could learn a lot about people by knowing their age, their district and what skills they had and what skills they wanted to learn. There were a couple people who interested me, but not in a 'this-is-my-life-or-death' way. More in a 'Which one will kill me?' way.

One particular day, the boy from District one threw Anette into the water, trying to start a fight. She screamed and flailed, and it was obvious to anyone with half a brain that she was afraid of water and couldn't swim, despite her District. The swimming instructor rescued her, but not before everybody knew her weakness.


	10. Chapter 10

When the day came, they called us in one by one. When Anette came out, she looked more stressed than I'd ever seen her. Which was a bit strange to me – she was always confident and peppy… When they called me in, I walked in. The plain black jumpsuit was tight and uncomfortable on me, and I'd already broken into a sweat.

"Name and district?" One of the Gamemakers asked me.

"Purl Chau, District 8."

"The suicidal one." One of the women muttered.

"What'll you be showing us?"

Instead of telling them, I launched straight into it.

"District One. Tribute: Flourish. One of the older girls, with a natural talent for stealth but skilled with large daggers. Clueless when it comes to foraging. District One. Tribute: Jet. Age 16. Large for his age and almost unnaturally fast, but not as strong as one would expect him to be. District two. Tribute: Wystan. A professional at explosives, she's a strong swimmer, but is nearly deaf and makes a lot of noise in whatever she's doing. District Two. Tribute: Knapp. The oldest tribute. Very muscular, proficient with most, if not all weapons, but not very smart and he clearly doesn't take any of this seriously. He gets cold very easily. District Three. Tribute: Debian. An expert with electronics, but easily winded. District Three. Tribute: Ram. Less proficient with electronics, but very good with a whip. His weakness is that he can't climb. District Four. Tribute: Anette. Strong, fast, and a deadly shot, but she can't swim at all, and is afraid of the water. District Four. Tribute: Aureus. Can hold his breath for nearly five minutes, and is very good at spear fishing. When it comes to other types of foraging, though, he can't hold his own…."

I went on, and on, and on, even listing my own strengths and weaknesses, but I had trouble coming up with a strength for Felt. Finally, after a what seemed to be a lifetime…

"District Twelve. Tribute: Pick. He's a natural with polearms, but is extremely frightful and has no physical strength to speak of."

"Thank you, Purl." The Gamemakers replied. I went to go await the scores.

Darnelle waited for me. "Pray, tell what you did. And don't tell me you didn't do a thing, girl."

"No, I told the Gamemakers exactly what everyone's strengths and weaknesses were."

Darnelle fell silent. "This is going to be a short game." She murmured, after a minute.


	11. Chapter 11

The scores came in. I'd gotten a 8, Felt had gotten a 6, and, to my surprise, Anette had only gotten a 5.

She was practically an Amazon. How on earth had she gotten only 5? I couldn't imagine what had happened for that score to happen.

Instead of wasting time wondering on it, I contemplated the highest score on the board – the District Two boy, Knapp, had gotten a 10 out of 12. I was impressed with him, too, actually. He had many skills and few weaknesses, but I could tell, from the way he interacted with the other tributes, that he didn't really comprehend the gravity of the Games. He'd befriended the crippled little District 12 girl, and that was a weakness that'd easily be exploited when the Games rolled around. The little girl herself, Vidae, had somehow gathered an impressive 7, and I had no idea how she'd gotten that.


	12. Chapter 12

Calista woke me up the next day to drag me off to mold me into whatever she wanted me to look like. She paused by the door of the Training Room, and went and gave Felt's mentor a kiss, full on the mouth, to my complete surprise. "See you after the interviews, big boy." I glanced at Darnelle to see her reaction, but her face didn't change at all. I had difficulty envisioning the big, scarred man and the little manic yellow bird that was Calista having a thing for each other.

Felt made a face at the display. Clearly he wasn't a fan of love stories.

After finishing sucking on Whatshisnames' face, Calista escorted us to the styling room, where she shaved Felt nearly bald, escorting him to another room, and started restyling my hair. "I'm so happy I left you with just enough hair to put in extensions, Purrrrl." She trilled her r experimentally. "I'm going to miss you when you go. I don't think I've ever had a scrap job come out so well, not in my 10 years of styling District Eight."

"Scrap job?" I asked.

"Yeah! Throw out all the ugly bits to bring out the pretty bits. Open your mouth so I can lipstick you proper, I've got something gorgeous in mind."

I opened my mouth, disgusted with the Capitol's attitude towards my body.

When she was done, she turned me toward a mirror. "That's your make up." There I was, in my underwear, fully done up in makeup. The discoloration around my nose was gone, replaced by freckles tattooed on my face, my eyes and lips done in an almost mockingly girlish style. Suddenly, my age had gone from fifteen to five, if it wasn't for the boob job and my hips and thighs.

"You have a very girlish face, actually, now that your freckles have been edited." Calista smiled, going over to the rack to pick out my dress. "Now let's see what colors will work for you. A green or light blue, I think." She pulled out a jade green midlength dress, holding it up to my body. "No, no. This won't work for the interview at all, my little ceramic doll." She scrounged around, eventually producing a dress that was a very, very pale blue. It was almost white. "This one." She said warmly. "Arms up!" She forced the dress onto me again. I got the feeling that Calista didn't know or care what my size was, she just made things to fit herself then crammed the tributes into them. I then looked at the mirror. There I was – well, a certain value of 'I', at least, in a tight little blue dress which came halfway to my ankles. It had a lace overskirt and trailing lace sleeves. It was a nice dress, even though I hated the material. How I missed the long, soft tartan skirts I wore and the too-big blouses. If I had any input on the clothes I'd die in, those would be the clothes.

"Is that it?" I asked her.

"Just one more thing." Calista leaned over, spreading blush on my cheeks. I looked in the mirror. Just as Calista had been muttering to herself, I was her little ceramic doll. Then she gave me a pair of lace stockings and little blue shoes that matched the dress.

"That was three more things." I complained.

Calista frowned at me. "Get going, I have to go work on Felty. I wish the Gamemakers would let me put a couple of your pounds on that boy…" She muttered.


	13. Chapter 13

Everyone was to be interviewed by Caesar Flickerman. It had been Caesar Flickerman for as lock as I could remember. His color of the year was an almost burnt-looking yellow.

I watched all the interviews intently. This was probably how I'd know the person who killed me. These were the interviews I paid the most attention to.

Flourish, the girl from District One, was going for the femme fatale act that Darnelle had been the first to pioneer. It didn't really work for her, and it came off to me as forced and awkward, and I doubted anyone considered it at all sexy.

The District Two girl, Wystan, stumbled her way through her interview – her problems hearing only got worse with the noisy audience, and ultimately, Caesar was barely able to help her at all.

The District Two boy, Knapp, managed to hide his lack of intelligence under a veil of good manners and charm that I hadn't expected from a big brute like him. It made him stick out.

The girl from District Three, Debian, went back and fourth with Caesar, managing to somehow prompt him to prompt her to sing, and when she did, my jaw actually dropped. Her voice was as smooth as liquid and as deep as the sea, or something romantic like that. That made her an early favorite with the crowd.

The boy from district three, on the other hand, Ram, was obviously sick somewhere in the head. He'd made a bad impression on the audience when he looked in the camera and spoke directly into the microphone about the bloodbath he'd initiate. Bloodbaths were good in the Game, but not before the game.

Annette made a wonderful impression on everybody. She was nervous, but she shrugged it off early on. She talked to Caesar about her work in District Four and her family. She came off as a decent, honest girl, and everyone seemed to admire her optimism and pep.

Acey, the District 5 boy, acted like a total ladykiller. He realized halfway through that the audience wasn't enjoying it, and he abruptly switched to shy boy, which the audience definitely noticed.

Linden, the District 8 boy, a stout but strong youth, didn't talk about himself at all and instead favored making little jokes. It came off as extremely mocking, and the audience hated it.

After Linden, it was my turn. Caesar smiled at me, the burnt yellow hair and eyelids kind of freaking me out.

"Hello, Purl Chau, I'm Caesar Flickerman." He smiled at me, escorting me into my chair. "Now, there's a lot of nicknames for you in the Capitol – Meat, the one who wants to die, I could spend all my time listing them, Purl. We all know you're playing the Games to lose, but could you tell me why?"

"I volunteered because the girl who was pulled from the bowl was loved and cared for. I'm not. I have no one. My mother died, my father left me when I could hardly walk. I have no friends, I have no relatives, all I've ever had is me. Nobody'll miss me, so it'd be better if I die than if she does."

"That's very noble of you, Purl. Please, tell us how your mother died."

"I… She died having me." My voice cracked.

"Now, Purl, somehow I doubt she'd agree with your usual suicide mission, were she here right now. She worked so hard giving birth to an incredible girl like you, she didn't make it out."

"I…I…" I'd never thought of it that way before. I didn't have any responses prepared for that statement. I had no idea what to say or how to react. Before I even knew what was going on, my eyes spilled over, tears falling on the lace overskirt.

"There, there, Purl." Caesar leaned over, wiping my tears away with a handkerchief.

I wasn't able to say another damn word. I just sat there, my mascara smudging on Caesar's handkerchief. Caesar immediately picked up the slack I'd left.

"Everybody, Purl Chau, our female tribute from District Eight! She hasn't even been in the Games yet, and she's already proven herself to be a hero. Volunteering to replace a girl who she knew would be missed. Purl Chau, who leapt down from her chariot to help up her district mate, Felt Miyaki, when he fell down and twisted his ankle, as everybody else laughed. Purl, I really admire your sacrifice, and I thank you for the insight you've given us as to why you're so determined." He helped me stand, and I took the handkerchief off my face My eyes adjusted to the light again and my gaze went out over the audience. My gaze fell to a woman dyed olive, sobbing like a child, a man who had been altered to have horns, who had a hand placed over his heart. Every one of them, looking at my face.

"Thank you, Caesar." I offered him the mascara-stained cloth back, but he closed my hand over it, smiling at me.

"No problem, Purl."

I went backstage to Darnelle. She smiled at me.

"I didn't deserve Caesar saying all those beautiful things about me…" I looked at the hankerchief. Darnelle picked it up and started wiping away the smeared makeup.

She smiled. "You say things like that, but you're too humble. Purl, dear, you're wonderful, in a way that you can't even see yourself."

"I'm not." I told her, seeing Felt head towards the stage out of the corner of my eye.

"Honey, you didn't have to volunteer as tribute. You could have killed yourself then and there and it'd have been much faster." She continued to wipe my face. "You could have left Felt right as he was when he fell off the chariot, but instead you jumped off the chariot in that big heavy dress and helped him." Darnelle brushed my hair out of my face, giving me the handkerchief back. I wasn't so uncomfortable with her touching me anymore. I'd gotten used to it. "Doing things because they're right is being a good person. Going out of your way to do what you feel is right is being a hero."

"I'm going to go to my room." I decided.

"Let's just see how Felt does with Caesar, and we'll go right back." Darnelle promised, putting a hand on my shoulder.


	14. Chapter 14

"So, Felt Miyaki, is it? How have you taken to the Capitol?" Caesar asked.

His lips moved, but apparently his microphone wasn't working. Caesar leaned over to share his microphone with Felt.

"I like it here. It's a big change from the colors of District Eight."

"Is there anything you want to say to your family or fellow tributes before you go into the games?"

"Yeah. To my district mate, Purl Chau, actually."

"What would that be?" Caesar asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Purl Chau… When we're in the arena, I will definitely be the one to kill you."

The audience hadn't expected that. Neither had I. The cameras scrambled to zoom in on his eyes –completely sincere and unfaltering, and I felt dizzy. The last thing I heard before I blacked out completely was Caesar's incredulous "What?!"


	15. Chapter 15

I woke up in my room. To my surprise, waiting up for me was Calista and Darnelle.

"I carried you back here, have some water." Darnelle told me, helping me sit up and offering me a glass of cold water. I sputtered at first, then managed to drink it.

"They said that the dress I gave you was so tight, you actually fainted. I'm sooo sorry." Calista peeped. She looked quite upset about it.

"…Did I imagine it, or did Felt really say he wanted to kill me?" I asked.

"We all thought we'd imagined it." Darnelle replied.

"Where's my hankerchief?" I asked. Now that I was out of the dress and into my undergarments, I had no idea where it was.

"Here." Darnelle took it out of her pocket, giving it to me.

"I want this to be my token." I said. "If Felt's promised to kill me, I don't want my token to be a gift from him… Darnelle, will you give it back to him?" I requested.

"Of course." Darnelle replied, taking the green stone off my dresser and giving it to Calista.

"What?" She asked dumbly.

"You made her faint, you give the stone to the kid." Darnelle replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "Are you okay?"

"Just… everything feels so wrong, all the sudden. I don't know if it was talking to Caesar, or what Felt said… I don't know if I want to die anymore. I look in the mirror and I don't know who I am anymore."

"Caesar has a way of making the audience see that everyone's special. Tonight, winning over the Capitol was just incidental. His audience was you. I've known him since he just started, my dear, and I called in a favor."

"You said you wouldn't try to talk me down from it." I accused.

"I never did. Caesar did." Darnelle smiled at me. She sat beside me on the bed, and for the first time, I considered winning the Games.


	16. Chapter 16

That morning, we were all set on our way to be shipped to the arena. Seeing Felt after the events of the night before was the most awkward situation I'd ever been in. Darnelle and Calista came to see me off. Calista was sobbing uncontrollably as she styled me for the last time.

"I dearly wish she'd shut up." Darnelle said, apologetically. "Do you have your hanky?

I held it out. It still had the mascara stains on it, then tucked it into my bra.

"Now just remember, once the Games begin, don't linger at the Cornucopia. Half the tributes die within the first few hours by tryin' to hoard. Take what you need and make for cover as fast as you can." I heard from the room adjacent to mine, the gruff voice of Felt's mentor.

"If you want to say something to us, now'd be the time to say it." Darnelle informed me. I threw my arms around her.

"Thank you. For everything."

"Get in the tube, dear, these old eyes are getting misty." Darnelle smiled.

"Bye, Darnelle." I got into the tube, waving at her.


	17. Chapter 17

The tube went up and the countdown begun. I glanced around. The scenery was gorgeous, in a rough – and-tumble kind of way. The theme this year must have been craggy mountains, because all I saw were crags, cliffs and a massive mountain towards the north. Gnarled trees hunched together in little patches, and I could see a waterfall flowing down the side of a mountain. We were in the center of a dry, grassless patch of land, all twenty-four tributes in a circle around the Cornucopia. I could see, from where I was, into the mouth – in it were massive bags which either obviously contained good camping supplies or weapons, and close by, there were smaller bags. There was one medium-sized bag that I became fixated upon, because the camouflage on the side looked kind of like like the mascara stain on my token.

Once the countdown rang out, I bolted towards it, only to find myself barreled over by someone much larger than I, judging by the angle he came from, probably the boy from District 3, the crazy one, Ram. We both got to our feet straightaway, and I ignored the pain in my side and lunged for the bag. I scooped it up and made the way for the grove.

That was when the first cannon rang out. It tapped into some long-forgotten and disused survival instinct and I dove for the ground, directly into a thornbush. I realized that this was no way to potentially, possibly survive the day. I stumbled back onto my feet and continued running.

I could hear someone following me, but I had no time to look back. Instead I patted the sides of my backpack and found what I was looking for – a weapon of some sort. I hid behind a tree, waiting for them to catch up, then hit them over the head hard with the flashlight I gripped in my hand and looked at my first victim, who was now semiconscious. The girl from District Six, Emma. I hit her again and again until I heard two more cannon shots. One of them for Emma, one for someone at the Cornucopia… My first kill. I grabbed her supplies – just a tiny little satchel, apparently, and kept on running until I got to a pile of fallen trees, which I hid under. I lost count of how many cannons I heard while I ran.

I was sure I'd be invisible to anyone from the outside, so I huddled in a corner and went through the satchel first by the light of the flashlight. In it was a little refrigerated container of food, thin, hammered out strips of fruit and meat that were dry and tough to the touch. There was also a set of needles in there, which would come in handy if there was any thread or sewing materials in the kit.

Two more cannon shots rang out.I opened the second bag and went through the stuff inside. There was a coat, which, judging by the weight of it, was lightly armored. I put that on immediately, buttoning it up. Lending most of the weight to the backpack was a sizable bladed mace. There was also a canteen, although it was disappointingly small, it was filled with a cool, sweet-smelling juice, and in a hidden pocket, there was a little silver tube that I didn't know the purpose of, and wool socks. I put on the wool socks, because I saw no reason not to, really. I liked wool socks. They were one of life's simple pleasures. I was almost ready to move on, but suddenly, another cannon shot rang out and there was a large thud right over my hiding place. I squished myself into the little corner I'd been hiding on, turning the flashlight upside down to hide the light, and held my mace at the ready.

"That's two we've taken out, kid. You're more merciless than I thought. A lot more into bloody deaths than I anticipated, too." The boy from District Three, the crazy one... Ram.

The next voice made my blood run cold. "I just stabbed them, they're the ones who bled all over."

Felt. The one who'd sworn to kill me was standing less than five feet away from me. I found a gap in the branches to glance out of, to make sure it was true. It was definitely true. Ram and Felt stood together, both of them covered in blood. I could barely see them, and judging by the way they talked, they couldn't see me. Blood started dripping down from on top of where the trees were.

"I've got respect for your methods, Eight." Ram said, clapping him on the shoulder. "If it comes to it, I'll may or may not save the Eight girl for you to kill." Ram went to pat Felt on the shoulder, and even faster than my eyes could see, Felt stuck his blade so far into Ram's chest, it came out the other side, than ripped the blade out roughly. A cannon shot rang out

"She's mine. She's definitely mine.." Felt informed Ram's dead body, feeling his pockets for supplies, then leaving.

I wanted to scream.


	18. Chapter 18

I put all the items I'd found into the bag, apart from the mace, the coat, the flashlight and the wool socks, once Felt was gone. I looked at the glassy-eyed bodies of Ram and Wystan, the District Two girl who was nearly deaf. Judging by the surprise on her face, she hadn't heard Felt coming. That meant that the boy who swore to kill me had managed to take out a Career Tribute on his first day. I reached out and closed her shocked eyes, then started jogging towards the base of the mountain. I was going to avoid the waterfall for the first day, it seemed too dangerous. But if there was a waterfall, there was probably other sources of water. Unless there wasn't, and the Gamemakers were looking for us to kill each other whenever we went to get a drink of water.

Either way, it was easy to see the waterfall from wherever you were, so I'd never have to worry about losing track of it. I discovered an abrupt end to the forest, and peeked over the ledge. It was a long drop, to all appearances, but I was nearly certain I saw a cave opening down there. Carefully, I lowered myself downward, dropping down onto the ledge beneath. I'd been right, there was a cave there, but unfortunately, it was occupied.

By a large bearlike muttation, who looked at me and growled.

"Oh no." I whispered, looking for any possible exit. But, to all appearances, it was just me and a bear. I gulped as the bear roused himself. He began to growl and head toward me, and it was all I could do to press myself into the side of the cave as he charged. He nearly went over the ledge, but then turned on his heels with speed you didn't expect of such a big, lazy creature and then came after me again. He roared, standing on his hind legs, and I swiped at his paw with the mace. I made contact, and the bear roared, coming down at me with his full weight. I was pinned under him, the bear tearing at my coat, until it suddenly stopped attacking me, pinning me under its great body. At first I'd assumed that it'd killed me, but soon it was clear that I was alive, being crushed by a giant, dead bear. Another cannon shot rang out as I tried to push the bear off me.


	19. Chapter 19

Somehow, I managed to push it off me, working with both my arms and legs, but that was where my good luck ran out. Both bear and mace fell over the cliff, and I could hear the mace dinging as it fell down. I was closer to the ledge than I'd thought it was. The sun was setting, and as Day One of my games ended, I'd already lost my best weapon, which was, judging by the bear's death, a poisoned, bladed mace. I looked over the cliff to see if it was retrievable, but wherever the bear and my mace had gone, was so far down, I couldn't see either one.

"Damn…" I looked down at myself. There was blood all over my coat, which had dripped on me when I had hid from Felt, blood on my hand from bludgeoning Emma with the flashlight, my coat was in shreds from the bear, reduced to ribbons which revealed the armor beneath the outside coating.

I looked like a killer, didn't I?

I sat on the Cliffside once the Capitol's anthem began to play. The faces of the dead projected up into the sky, and I looked and counted. Wystan, from District Two. Who had been killed by Felt. Both District 3 Tributes. Ram had been killed in front of my own eyes. By Felt. The girl from District 5, Chordette. The boy from District 6. The boy from District 7. Both tributes from District 9. The boy from 10. The girl from 11, and both tributes from 12. Twelve tributes dead. Half of us. At least four of the twelve dead had apparently been killed by Felt. The first person who had ever made a joke that I'd actually laughed at.

Chills went down my spine and I retreated into the cave to decide what to do. I drank some of the juice, which was sickly-sweet and ate one of the meat jerkies.

"I am alive." I muttered to myself. "And I don't know if I want to die." I paused. "And I definitely don't want Felt to kill me." There's something about having someone you know tell an entire society that they were going to kill you personally that sort of jolted you out of any romantic thoughts of suicide-via-Games. I closed my eyes, huddling in a corner of the cave, using the backpack as a pillow.


	20. Chapter 20

I was jolted violently from my sleep by another cannon blast. I took it as a signal to leave the cave and pulled myself back up the ledge. It wasn't easy, but I made my way up. Not bad for a seamstress, I suppose. I walked back into the forest and poked around for a bit. I heard a girl cry out in the distance and made a point of heading in the other direction. No cannon shot followed, so I assumed she'd tripped or something. I didn't pursue her. I had no weapons.


	21. Chapter 21

Eventually, I stumbled upon a tiny pond, which seemed to suit my drinking purposes. I carefully filled my canteen with the mostly-clean water and tried to figure out if I'd seen any landmarks along the way. I couldn't really think of any, and I hadn't marked my trail. Not that marking my trail was a good idea. I didn't want to be followed. I looked for shelter nearby, but found nothing and decided to move on.


	22. Chapter 22

I came across a stream which satisfied my standards. It was just a couple inches deep, but it was ice-cold running water with a hollowed-out tree nearby. The hole was just big enough for me to wiggle into, and there was enough room inside for me, my backpack, and maybe just a little squirming. The shelter wasn't great, but I could easily hide and listen. I hid the entrance with a rough mud-and-reed door.


	23. Chapter 23

I camped in the tree hollow for two days, contemplating becoming the Victor, or letting myself be slain. Over that time period, two tributes died, the boy from District Four, and Vidae, the crippled little girl from District 10. I wondered how she'd made it to the fourth day. She couldn't run, she couldn't fight… so how had she lasted four days? I could only assume that she had been protected by somebody up until that point, for what reason, I couldn't fathom. A useless ally could be just as bad as a traitor, right?

I went to sleep with those thoughts in my mind.


	24. Chapter 24

I awoke to a commotion right outside my tree hollow. There was splashing, and a scream.I heard the sound of flesh being cut and my breath caught. Not waiting for a cannon and not bothering to strike again, the attacker left, I could hear them walk away behind the tree. As soon as I was sure they were gone, I peeped out of the tree hollow, morbidly curious.

"No." I crawled out of the treehollow and over to Anette, who was at the edge of the stream, a vertical cut going from nearly her shoulder to her groin. Her hand was currently holding her innards in, and she opened her mouth to speak. "Kill me." She pleaded, looking me in the eye. I reached towards her neck, getting ready to jerk it with every ounce of strength I had to the side, but I was assaulted by a memory. That same voice. "Purl! Glad you can join us!" The orange she'd tossed me, a big grin on her face. So confident, so strong. She'd had a smile for me before anyone else had. She'd welcomed me to the training room, the first day I'd bothered to leave my room.

I'd do better than that for her. I went and got my backpack, taking out the needle kit. I tore off the shredded strips from the front of my vest, washing them and threading through the needle. And then I did the only thing I knew how to do. I sewed Anette back together. By the time I was done, she'd passed out from all the blood she lost, and, not knowing what to do, I moved her into the tree hollow, leaving food and water with her. With her in there, there was no room for me, so instead I climbed up the tree's branches to hide away.


	25. Chapter 25

My days were uneventful for the following week. Two more died. The boy from District Five and the girl from Seven.

I counted the remaining people as I tended Annette's wounds to the best of my ability. She'd woken up on the third day, and had eaten a little. "People left right now are you, me, Felt, the boy from 11, the boy from 2, both tributes from 1…and somebody else, I think I missed the announcement."

"You're crazy for trying to heal me, when there's just six or seven of us left, you know." Anette told me, managing to grin. I could tell she was in pain.

"I have to try to heal you. If I had to pick one person who's still alive to win, it'd be you."

"Guess it wouldn't be Felt, after he publicly announced he was going to kill you." Anette frowned. "You know, you're really a great person. For someone who wants to die so bad."

"That's what Caesar and my mentor said."

"My mentor said that you underestimate how much the Capitol likes you." Anette replied, forcing herself to sit up. "They adore you. You don't play the Games by anyone's rules except your own, for nobody's reasons except your own, and you probably have, like, a zillion sponsors."

"Why would anyone sponsor somebody who's playing to lose?"

"You tell me, Purl." Anette replied, smiling at me. "What's for dinner?"

I didn't have the heart to tell her we were out of food. I didn't know how to hunt or forage. I hadn't even tried to learn in the Training Room. If I could go back in time and punch myself in the face for not learning basic things like that, I would have.


	26. Chapter 26

Anette, of course, took charge of food, managing to make a spear of sorts out of a sharp stick and sitting at the edge of the stream, spearing tiny little fish. It was a sad excuse for a meal, but it was better than I could provide – a couple berries that Anette informed me were not, in fact, edible, and a weird little tuber that apparently was. There wasn't exactly much in this arena except for the fish, and the tubers seemed to be a one-time thing, since when I went back to get more, all of them were gone. So we ate well that one night – raw tubers, raw fish, and then huddled together in the tree hollow.


	27. Chapter 27

"We should try moving." Anette proposed, a couple days after out sorry excuse for a feast. "Soon, there'll probably be traps everywhere or something, and we should go while we have the option to go at a pace where my stitches won't rip." She was barely in a fit state to fish, much less walk, but I saw in those kind but mysterious hazel eyes, she wasn't going to debate the issue.

"Alright." I agreed. "Where should we go, though? We don't have any weapons apart from your fishing spear and my flashlight, and I don't want to run into Felt. I saw him kill two our first day here…"

"…You're probably right…" Anette muttered.

I looked around our stream. I didn't want to see it go, but was it really safe to leave?

"What's that sound?" Anette asked, putting her spear down. It was a little tinkling parachute, bearing a gift.

"Darnelle!" I nearly shouted.

"I told you you had a lot of sponsors." Anette smiled. I ran to grab the parachute, opening up the package.

In the package was a modestly sized harpoon gun. I held it up to show Anette.

"No way!" She grinned.

"That's probably from your, sponsors, you know." I told her. It was obviously more an item for her than it was for me.

"Purl, I don't have any sponsors." She informed me, as if it were fact. "This is from yours. Even if it'll help me more than it'll help you, it's from yours." She struggled to her feet. "Your entire persona revolves around helping people. When you volunteered, you did it to save some random girl. When your Districtmate fell off the chariot, you jumped down and helped him without even thinking of it. When I asked you to kill me, you saved my life. You're the Helper, Perl, and now your sponsors brought a weapon to help me."

"I doubt that." I replied, as we got moving. But somehow, I wasn't so sure.


	28. Chapter 28

Anette seemed insistent on heading to the waterfall.

"But you're scared of water and can't swim." I protested.

"If I were the District Ones or Felt, that's where I'd be. Either at the waterfall or on top of the mountain.

"We can't just attack the District Ones." I protested.

"I've got firepower now." Anette replied confidently. "And I've got my little good luck charm right here." She smiled at me.

"I'm not good luck, I'm bad luck. And I'm just a seamstress." I informed her.

"Lucky seamstress." Anette sang. "A lucky little cute little seamstress. With impeccable stitchwork." I'd dissected a strip of my jacket down to the strings to sew her clothes back into a useable state. "I can't imagine you weren't District 8th's lead seamstress."

"You're just babbling at this point." I informed her, taking a little fish out of the refrigerated container and eating it. You got used to eating tiny little fish whole at some point. I offered her the container, and she slurped down two.


	29. Chapter 29

We got to the waterfall after a day and a half of slow walking, just in time to see the boy from District One abandoning the girl from District One in a quicksand trap. Anette was probably right. It was too late in the game for allies. We waited for the cannon to ring out before emerging, avoiding the quicksand carefully.

After looking around, we decided we were apparently too late to attack the Ones. That was when things got interesting. Underneath us, the ground began to shake. Anette doubled over in pain as her stitches shook.

"We've gotta run." She said, worry in her eyes.

"What?" I asked. "It's just an earthquake. Probably to shake everyone out of hiding."

"No, it's not just an earthquake. We've gotta get somewhere safe, quick. Do you know a place?"

"There was a cave on the cliff face." I said.

"We're going there, now." She informed me.

I lead the way, and as fast as we could, we ran towards the cave.

Anette was clearly in a great deal of pain, but she never complained. She just insisted that we keep on moving.

There were two more earthquakes, and suddenly everything grew still. All the animals had seemed to disappear, and then it was clear why.

The mountain erupted.

I'd been stupid to assume it wasn't a Gamemaker trap.

We were most of the way to the cave when the lava started flowing towards us, I dropped down, threw my backpack in the cave, and caught Anette as she dropped, then we went into the cave.

We had four fish left.

A cannon rang out once. Then it rang out again. I was so scared of the hot lava, when it came time to see who had died, I didn't leave the cave.


	30. Chapter 30

We didn't have much to do except talk while the lava cooled.

"You're from District Four, and you can't swim. How did that happen? Every tribute I've ever seen from Four swims like a fish." I asked her.

Anette made a face. It was a sore spot. "That's going way back into ancient history. I've always been a Career, you know. But my family always overestimated my potential."

"What do you mean?"

"My uncle was in charge of showing me what to do when it came to water, but every time it was time to hold my breath, he'd just grab me by the shoulders and hold me under the water. I was maybe three or four, and he decided learning this was more important than swimming. When I was five, he held me under the water so long, I drowned."

"You drowned?!"

"One of the guys on the dock pulled me out of the water, and managed to revive me. But I think my heart might have stopped." Anette frowned. "Purl, my turn for a question. What happens if it comes down to you and me?"

"There's a cliff right there for me to jump off of." I told her.

"So you're still going to do it." Anette stated, frowning.

"You're a Career. You're expected to win. I'm District 8 and the local suicide case."

"Yeah, but… I don't know. I care about what happens to you, I guess."

I couldn't look at her after that. I didn't want to see her face. What I did do was give her the armored coat.


	31. Chapter 31

We ran out of fish, of course. I let Anette have three of them. She was healing and needed her strength, I was more or less useless. I climbed the cliff face first, to scout the destruction. Between the eruption and now, all of the resources had disappeared. There were no trees, the waterfall was gone, the mountain was black, there was a thick layer of ash all over everything. Other than the ash which still hung in the air, everything was pretty visible. Now it was beyond simple to track people's movements. I shuddered. The Hunger Games had entered it's final phase. Either we killed each other quickly, or we waited to see which of us would starve or die of thirst quicker. I looked around my immediate area. Just black rock, ash and…. Footprints. My pulse quickened and I looked around to find whoever might have caused the footprints, and just outside of my field of vision, I was tackled. I struggled against my assailant.

"Don't struggle!"

I knew that voice. Felt.

"I'm giving you exactly what you told me you wanted! Why are you struggling?"

"I don't w-" He hit me with something very hard. My head spun.

"You told me that you wanted to die! You can't just change your mind! I made a promise! I gave my word as a man, to the entirety of Panem, that I would fufill your wishes! To help you, just as youhelped me!" I caught sight of him out of the corner of my eye, and it was hard to believe that this was the same boy who'd fallen off the chariot during the parade. His eyes were crazed, possibly even diseased, his shirt was ripped off to reveal numerous scars, some healed, some fresh, a good deal of his hair had been burned off. And since the Games had started, something had taken every fiber of the being that was Felt Miyaki and twisted it. Not for the better.

I hit him with the flashlight as hard as I could, but he just seemed to absorb the blow.

"I can't die, Purl." He twisted my arms over my head as I tried to kick him off me. His other hand held a knife to my throat. "I can't die until I've fulfilled my promise." Then he kissed me, hard. I bit off his tongue.

That caught Felt off guard. He released my arms to catch the blood dripping from his mouth, and I rolled him off me, exactly as I'd done with the muttation bear. Now I was the one pinning him. He slashed at me with his knife, catching me on the shoulder. I cried out and headbutted him, which seemed to serve to only make me dizzy again. He took advantage of that, and within a second, was on top of me again, screaming incoherently at me, unable to form words without his tongue. There was a strange sound that I didn't know how to identify, and Felt looked down at his torso, gasping. I gasped too. A harpoon jutted out of his heart, dripping blood on me, and Anette kicked him off me as he died slow, twitching painfully. She withdrew the harpoon and I took his knife, slitting his throat. The cannon rang out.

"I'm sorry, Felt." Even if he'd gone way off the reservation, he was still that boy who'd made a joke to me.

Anette reloaded the harpoon gun, not batting an eyelash. She was, after all, a Career, and it was unlikely that this was her first kill in the Games.

Somehow, I couldn't tear myself away from his body. I reached out and closed his eyes. I'd known him. In his twisted way, he cared about me. He cared about me enough to continuously ask me if I really wanted to die, and when I told him to stop, I'd locked in my answer. Maybe that was what'd driven him mad. Anette patted him down and found nothing on him. He'd probably lost everything in the eruption.

"Purl!" Anette scolded me, as the hovercraft came to claim his body. "We have to keep moving. You two weren't exactly being quiet."

"Yeah, I…." I frowned.

"That wasn't your first kill, was it?"

I didn't reply.


	32. Chapter 32

We moved on. Anette had decided to follow Felt's footprints, to see where he'd hid from the lava. We didn't expect to find another Tribute there. This one made me pause. It was Emma. She must have survived me beating her on the first day.

"You!" Anette yelled at her as Emma got her sword at the ready.

"Hey, look! Girlfriends, this late in the Games." Emma taunted. Her speech was garbled, probably from my handiwork. It was incredible to me that someone who had gotten injured who wasn't a Career, only District Six, could make it this far.

She dove for me, and the harpoon caught her in the calf, but Emma kept going, lunging for me. Her blade caught me on the head, and I went down.


	33. Chapter 33

I woke up to find Anette standing over me. "Don't move." She advised. "The sword's still in your head."

I stood still.

"I'm going to take this out carefully." She told me. Emma was gone, and I'd probably missed the cannon.

"She's dead?" I inquired.

"Beyond dead. I couldn't let her get away after nearly killing the both of us, right?"

"She's the one who slashed you?" I asked.

"Yeah."


	34. Chapter 34

There was just one tribute left, apart from Anette and I. Knapp, the boy from District 2. The big, boisterous brute.

A loud voice sort of flowed over the arena. "Three tributes remain. There will be a feast held at the top of the volcano. Something precious has been taken from each and every one of you, whether it was your token or something else entirely. Some of you've noticed, some of you haven't. Either way, it will be at the top of the volcano… at least, until it erupts again."

"Is that even an incentive?" Anette asked.

I checked the inside of my bra. I knew what they'd taken. "They've got my handkerchief!" I told her.

"Does that really even matter to you? It's just a hankie." Anette frowned.

"What Caesar said made me realize that, at least, to my mother, I'd been worth dying for. He let me have his handkerchief, and I took it in as my token."

"Then, let's go get it." Anette decided. "Maybe we'll run into Knapp and end this."

We headed up the mountain, she and I. Neither of us were exactly in any state to rush.


	35. Chapter 35

When we got to the top of the mountain, there were three objects on top. A stuffed rabbit, a glittering gold ring, and my hankie, held down by a green banded rock. The token that Felt had given me. Seeing it nearly stopped my heart.

Anette scooped up the ring and put it on. "It's really rude to steal a girl's engagement ring."

"What?!" I put the hankie and stone into my pocket, where they belonged.

Anette picked up the bunny rabbit. It was crafted out of rags quite primitively. The stitchwork was amateurish. "I guess Knapp is a big softie, huh?"

"I've seen that bunny before." A memory tugged at the edge of my head, but it only made my brain hurt.

"I think it might have belonged to that crippled girl, what was her name?"

I wasn't expecting someone to yell.

"HER NAME WAS VIDAE, YOU MURDERER!"

Knapp launched himself at Anette from where he was hid underneath the lip of the volcano.

"YOU KILLED HER!" He screamed, his hands wrapping around her neck. There was a spear over his back, but he obviously wanted to kill Anette with his own two hands.

I think I blacked out. The only thing that brought me back to reality was a cannon shot. I was sitting on Knapp's chest, stabbing him over and over again, completely mindlessly. There were at least two dozen holes in his shirt, there was blood all over me. Over my arms, over my chest, on my thighs.

"Purl, he's dead. You can stop." Anette coughed. I rushed to her side, to see her injuries. Her neck was red, but she was otherwise fine. I helped her up.

"It's time." I told her, looking at the blood on my body.

"I guess this is goodbye, huh?" Anette kissed me on the cheek.

"Yeah, it is. Live a long, happy life, okay?"

"No, you've got to make me that promise." She said.

"What?"

Saying that, she picked me up with almost superhuman strength and threw me. I tumbled down the mountain.

"You weren't the only one playing to lose, Purl." I looked up just in time to see Anette jump into the volcano.

A cannon sounded.

(AN: If this story becomes popular enough and people ask for it, I might write an epilogue. But as for now, I'm taking a break. I wrote all this over the course of the last two days and I'm exhausted!)


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